What About Yesterday?
by sherlockian4evr
Summary: Mycroft was in an accident and has lost approximately six and a half years to retrograde amnesia. As far as he knows, his baby brother still lives alone in squalor as a junkie and Mycroft definitely doesn't recall being in a relationship with a certain DI. Beta read by Sherlock1110.
1. Chapter 1

Mycroft stared at the hospital wall, unseeing. His head ached, he was dizzy and, worst of all, he had been shaken to the core by what his doctor had told him. In addition to concussion from the accident, he had retrograde amnesia, not just of the few hours leading up to his injury, but going back approximately six and a half years. Upon receiving the news, the government official had requested time to himself. He needed to come to terms with what he had been told.

It was just a few short minutes later that Sherlock and John entered the hospital room. From one look at his brother, Mycroft could tell that he had been updated by the doctor on his diagnosis. "Don't look at me that way, baby brother."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "And what way would that be?"

"You know very good and well what I mean." Mycroft shifted in the bed and tried to sit up better. John moved to help him. Not recognizeing him, Mycroft ignored him. Once he was settled, the government official really looked at his brother. Sherlock looked... healthy.

The detective gave his brother a crooked smile. If he hadn't been so worried for Mycroft, his next words would have been scathing. "Yes, brother dear, I'm clean. I have been for almost six years." The brief flash of surprise and... joy that crossed Mycroft's face made the detective clear his throat and look down at his feet, unsure how to react.

John sensed his boyfriend's discomfort and moved to ease it. He approached the side of the government official's bed. "Mycroft, I'm John Watson. I'm Sherlock's... flatmate." The rest could be explained later. "I moved in a little over a year ago. We've met, of course. You and I don't see eye to eye on much, except now and again on the need to keep Sherlock safe."

Mycroft chuckled, then brought a hand to his temple at the resulting pain. "You're a straight forward sort of man."

"Yes I am. That's part of why we don't get along too well." John's smile softened his words, allowing Mycroft to deduce that their relationship wasn't quite as adversarial as it sounded. "Actually, you've grown on me, rather like a fungus," John said, grinning.

From the hall, there came the sound of raised voices. Someone clearly wanted into the room, but wasn't being allowed. John and Sherlock exchanged looks.

"That'll be Greg," John said, grimly. I'll go talk to him before he comes in. You'd better prepare your brother." John tilted his head in Mycroft's direction and the detective acknowledged it with a nod.

With a sense of dread, Mycroft asked, "Your friend, John, what was he talking about... prepare me?"

Sherlock pulled a chair up to the bedside and sat before answering, "You're going to find this hard to believe. I still find it hard to believe." He paused, thinking how to say what needed to be said. "You found yourself a goldfish," the detective finally said with a shrug. "His name is Greg Lestrade. You call him Gregory. He's a DI at New Scotland Yard."

Mycroft gaped at his brother. He didn't do sentiment, there was no room in his life for it and certainly no time. Even if he did, no one would possibly put up with his schedule or his inability to simply talk about his work like a normal person. He had tried that once and it had been an unmitigated disaster. No, it was simply impossible.

A handsome, grey haired man came crashing into the room along with John. Mycroft deduced it must be this Gregory Lestrade his brother had told him about.

With a stricken look, Greg said, "Oh, Mycroft."


	2. Chapter 2

John and Sherlock locked gazes. Without a word, they retreated from the hospital room, leaving Greg and Mycroft alone for their reunion, as awkward as it was bound to be.

Lestrade waited until the door to the room closed, then he slowly approached the bed. Nervously, he ran a hand through his silver hair. "So... You don't remember anything about the last six and a half years. You don't remember me…" His voice fell off at the end, sadness creeping into it. Greg wanted nothing more than to hold Mycroft's hand and kiss him gently. He wanted to tell him that everything would be alright and they would be home again soon, together, but none of that was appropriate now.

Mycroft had been observing Lestrade as he talked. He could see the things the other man wanted to do and say, but was holding back. It was obvious this DI was strong of character and cared about him very much. "Detective Inspector Lestrade, why don't you have a seat and tell me about yourself? I'm curious what type of man would have been able to capture my attention. In particular, how did we meet?"

Pulling a chair up beside Mycroft's bed, Greg rubbed at the back of his neck. He wished their meeting had been under more pleasant circumstances than it had, but it was what it was. "Actually, if your memory loss hadn't gone back quite so far, I wouldn't have to. It was a little over six years and three months ago that we first met. It took us years to get around to dating." The DI reached for Mycroft's hand, but stopped himself. "I was working a crime scene. There had been a murder. Your brother showed up high and proceeded to tell us all exactly how it had been done and who had done it." Greg laughed, remembering how well that hadn't gone over. "Somehow I got put in charge of Sherlock until we could verify his theory and eliminate him as the actual killer. By the time it had become clear that he was innocent, his high had worn off. I called you and you came to get him. We talked about the possibility of him helping on future cases if he stayed clean. It took him a few months, but he managed it. I got promoted, eventually, and he and I have been working together ever since."

Mycroft looked at Lestrade with a new respect. "So you're the reason my brother got clean." He was quite impressed.

"Well, I gave him the incentive, yes, but he had to do the hard part." Greg smiled broadly. "Don't tell him, but I've rarely been so proud of anyone in my life."

That the DI cared so much about his brother would definitely have caught Mycroft's attention. "Detective Inspector..."

"Gregory, please." Lestrade corrected him. He couldn't bear to hear such formality from his boyfriend.

"Gregory," the government official continued, "how long was it before we became involved personally?"

The DI blushed. "It didn't happen until earlier this year. You see... I was married. My wife cheated on me and I got divorced eighteen months ago. After what you considered a discreet amount of time, you asked me out."

Mycroft's eyes widened in surprise. "I asked you out?!" His powers of deduction had completely failed him. He had expected it to have been the other way around. It seemed that the loss of over six years of memories had severely crippled his ability to deduce. "And you said yes?"

"Actually, I said no. Five times." Greg grinned. "Luckily for me, you were a persistent bastard." He had never dreamt how fulfilling a relationship with Mycroft Holmes would be. Now, he would do whatever it took to make sure he didn't lose it.


	3. Chapter 3

Greg was about to say something else to Mycroft when there was a knock at the door. He wanted to tell whoever it was to go away, but the government official called, "Enter."

Anthea came into the room, her mobile down by her side for once and a file under her arm. "Mr. Holmes, I'm your PA." She gave the DI a sidelong look. "You call me Anthea. Most of the time. I've spoken with your associates and supervisors. It's been determined that you are to take a month long leave of absence in order to acclimate."

She was all business as usual and that rubbed the DI the wrong way. Feeling annoyed, Greg interrupted. "Is this really the best time? He's still under medical observation. Can't this discussion wait until he's released, at least?"

"Gregory..." Mycroft warned. He could see that the DI was concerned for him, but surely it wasn't the other man's place to interfere in his work, even if they were supposedly a couple.

Anthea turned a rare understanding smile on Greg. "You know how he is. Without knowing the plan for his future, he'll will worry himself to death."

The DI had to concede the point. "I know," he acknowledged, running a hand through his silver hair. "That doesn't mean I have to like it." And he didn't, not one little bit.

"No it doesn't," Anthea agreed sympathetically.

"Excuse me," Mycroft spoke up, tired of being spoken about as if he wasn't there. "I would like to hear what else you have to say," he directed to Anthea. "Surely that wasn't all. I'll be in no condition to resume my tasks in a mere month. I'm surprised they want me back at all." How could he possibly be of any use to the government now?

Anthea spoke in a very matter of fact tone. "You're role in the government is somewhat more critical than it was at the point your memories leave off. As such, it would be inadvisable to simply let you go as an asset. A concentrated two month course is being prepared to bring you up to speed on everything you need to know, including today's political climate, your contacts and the operations you lead." She glanced briefly at Greg. "I'm afraid that's all I can tell you at present, Mr. Holmes."

The government official had been slight taken aback by the indication that his role in the government had become so vital. He decided to ponder that at a later date. "I didn't hire you for your shorthand abilities, did I?" Mycroft asked. Whilst she had been talking, he had deduced a number of her skills and the list was quite impressive.

"No, Mr. Holmes you didn't." Anthea's response was confident.

Mycroft stretched. Before he could think about work, he needed to get his life in order. "Anthea, put together a brief for me, not about work, but about my personal life for the missing years of my memory," he requested. There had to be many things that had changed besides his relationship with the DI and Sherlock's status. Did he even live in the same place?

Anthea handed him the folder she had brought with her. "Will there be anything else, Mr. Holmes?"

Blinking at the folder, the government official shook his head. This PA was quite efficient indeed. He could see why he had hired her. As she slipped from the room, he ran his hand across the surface of the rather thick folder.

Greg cleared his throat. "Do you want me to leave while you read that?" he asked, still not really wanting to leave Mycroft alone.

The government official looked up at him. "Would you mind? Just for an hour or so? Then you could come back and tell me more about us."

Reluctantly the DI agreed. "I'll go get something from the cafeteria. Would you like anything?"

Mycroft shook his head no. He had already opened the file and didn't look up as Greg slipped from the room.


	4. Chapter 4

The moment the door closed behind Greg, Mycroft let the folder drop to his lap. He looked at his hands and saw that they were shaking. He was just glad that no one had noticed. How was he supposed to take this all in? He felt as though he had stepped through the looking glass into Wonderland.

Sherlock was healthy and clean, no longer using drugs. It was difficult to believe, but he was more than glad to see it. What shocked him even more was that his brother was obviously in a commited relationship with that John Watson fellow, though they hadn't mentioned it. It had been simple to deduce from the way they interacted and especially the way they looked at one another. These developments were things Mycroft could welcome, even if he could hardly fathom them. Someone caring about and for his bother... John was obviously a military man and a doctor. He could protect Sherlock from himself in so many ways. That was good. Perhaps he could ease his own vigilance over his brother. That remained to be seen. Then again, perhaps he already had.

The government official's thoughts turned to Gregory Lestrade. The whole business with him was more difficult to fathom. That he had allowed himself a romantic entanglement seemed completely impossible. It was even more out of character for him than for his brother. Sherlock had always been the one who struggled with feelings of sentiment, not him. What had made this DI so special that he had caught his eye? Had it really been the simple fact that Lestrade, no Gregory, had helped Sherlock, that he had cared? Yes, that would have intrigued him, but it shouldn't have been enough to wake sentiment's slumber.

Picking up the folder Anthea (clearly not her true name) had provided, he began to read. Perhaps he would find the clues he needed within. It took him quite some time to get through it, it was quite thorough and written in an objective tone, but it proved quite enlightening. He and Gregory, he was going to call the man that, had worked together closely on numerous occasions, seeing to both Sherlock's sobriety and safety. When John had come along, the need for those interventions had dropped off dramatically and he had found himself missing the DI. Hence the numerous requests to take the man on a 'date'. Gregory must be a remarkable man indeed. He hoped to get to know him, but he didn't know if he would ever feel about him as he had felt before. How could he guarantee such a thing? They were different people at different points in their lives than they had been when they had met. He suddenly felt ill and pushed the folder away roughly. It landed on the floor.

Mycroft's head came up as the door to his room opened. He breathed a sigh of relief to see his brother. He wasn't up to facing Gregory just yet.

"I thought you might have had enough time to work yourself up into a panic about Lestrade," Sherlock said as he took a seat by his brother's bed. "He's getting coffee with John. We have time to talk."

The government official scowled at his brother. "I'm not panicking. I was merely considering the unlikelihood of our situation."

Bending over, the detective retrieved the folder and its spilled contents, then he set them to rights. "That's the equivalent of panicking for you." Sherlock leant towards his brother. "Mycroft, I know you don't have any reason to listen to me right now. The trust we've built up between us isn't there for you, but you need to try to trust me anyway. Lestrade, Greg, is the single best thing that ever happened to you. It won't be in this report, because you had only told me your plans, but you were preparing to propose to him. Don't just assume it can't work between you. Give it a chance. You need each other."

Mycroft didn't know what to say. He hadn't heard his brother speak so freely to him about anything, let alone sentiment, since they were children. He was in Wonderland indeed.


	5. Chapter 5

John and Greg sat at a corner table in the hospital cafeteria, each with a cup of coffee in his hand. The DI looked down into the dark surface of his as if looking for answers. After a bit, he made a face, obviously not having found any.

"Bloody hell." Greg set his coffee down and ran both his hands through his silver hair, then he rested his head in his hands. The situation seemed hopeless at the moment. The man that had looked out at him from that hospital bed was someone he hadn't seen in years, someone more withdrawn from society, more cold and unapproachable than his beloved boyfriend. What was he supposed to do with that? He wanted his Mycroft back, the one that had grown in so many ways.

John took a sip of his coffee and made a face at its bitterness. At least there was caffeine behind it somewhere. "Well, Greg, what are you thinking?"

With a bitter laugh, the DI looked up at him. "Honestly? I'm terrified. I'm grateful that he's going to be okay physically, but... John, what do I do? Do I stay by his side? What if he doesn't want me there? What if he sends me away? And when they release him to go home... Do I go with him? All my things are at his place. Maybe he'll just pack it all up and ship it off, me included. I..."

"Hold it." The doctor held up a hand to stop Greg's rapid flow of words. "I would probably be asking all those same questions myself, but as a person on the outside, I have to say don't do it to yourself." He searched for the right words, but they didn't come easy. Finally, he came up with, "You can't move forward if you're going to question your every move as well as Mycroft's in advance. Right now, you need to concentrate on getting him well enough to go home. Fuck what happens after. Yes, stay with him as much as he allows. Try not to treat him any differently, well, I know you have to to some degree... Just talk to him like he's Mycroft, you know?"

This time, Greg pushed his cup of coffee aside and faceplanted on the table. John made it seem so simple, but it wasn't. The truth was, the DI was terrified. He sat back up. "I don't know what to talk to him about, John. Just thinking about it makes my head hurt."

The doctor frowned as he thought. "He needs to know why he fell in love with you in the first place..." John trailed off. It wouldn't do for Greg to let Mycroft know what he was doing. "Why don't you talk about Sherlock? Tell him stories about him and how he's helped you through the years, how much he's changed. Mycroft's no fool. He'll see how you influenced him. Isn't that what brought you together in the first place?"

The DI leaned back in his chair, letting his arms fall to his sides. John's idea was a good one. It might not work, but it was a plan. It would at least give him something to talk about, something that might keep Mycroft's interest. He had always cared about Sherlock. He had to be curious about his brother's life during the missing years of his memory and that folder Anthea had brought couldn't really fill the gaps. "I can do that," he said, nodding. He felt the first glimmers of hope rising up inside him since hearing Mycroft's diagnosis. They might be faint, but they were there. "Yeah. Ta, mate." He pushed his chair away from the table and stood, a look of determination on his face. "I think it's time for me to go check on Myc."

"I'll walk with you," John offered. "I need to collect Sherlock anyway."

Together they made their way back up to the government official's room, Greg feeling just a bit more hopeful.


	6. Chapter 6

When John and Greg entered Mycroft's hospital room, it was to find the government official looking at his brother in total confusion. It was obvious he didn't know what to make of the new and improved Sherlock, as the doctor and the DI both thought of him. They both wondered if Mycroft thought his brother improved or diminished. It was difficult to tell from the expression on his face.

"John," the detective beamed, "you're back. I've had about all I can stand of this boring place. You know how much I loathe hospitals. Let's leave the entertainment of my big brother to Lestrade." He stood and gave the DI an encouraging smile, made all the rarer for having come from Sherlock.

Greg made his goodbyes to both John and the doctor, then settled into the hard plastic chair by Mycroft's bedside. "How was your visit with Sherlock?" He was curious to hear his... boyfriend's reaction. He was still his boyfriend, dammit all!

"Not what I expected. Not at all," the government official admitted, then he promptly wondered why he had confided so much in the, to him, relative stranger that was Gregory Lestrade. Still... he apparently trusted the man on some instinctive level. "He really has changed. I don't know what to make of it."

"Yes, he has and I like it." The DI let himself stretch out and shoved his hands in his pockets. "I remembered what he was like well enough." He gave a dramatic shudder. "I'm just as glad not to have to deal with that on a regular basis anymore. Though, it was worth it when I did, just to be around him, you know?" Greg let himself smile as he remembered them working together. "I think he's finally growing up. I thought of him as a kid for so long. I couldn't help myself. He just had that look about him like he needed protecting. God, Mycroft, don't ever tell him I said that, he'd never forgive me for thinking it, much less giving it voice." Sherlock would make his life a living hell if he knew.

Mycroft found himself smiling. "Then not everything has changed about my brother. He's still got his prickly pride." That was comforting. He'd hate to think everything about a person could change so drastically in a few years' time.

"God, yes." The DI grinned. "He can be a right wanker. And that's not all that hasn't changed. Just a couple of weeks ago, he, John and I were working a case together. It was like old times. The suspect pulled a runner at the last minute and your brother was off like a shot right behind him. At least now I have John to help me in those kinds of situations." He wriggled his toes in his shoes, debating kicking them off, but decided against it.

"What happened?" Mycroft asked despite himself. Obviously, everything had turned out fine. His brother hadn't been sporting an injury, nor had John. Gregory appeared to be perfectly fine as well. "Did he catch the culprit?"

"Oh, by the time John and I had shown up on the scene, Sherlock had the suspect in hand and in tears. The poor man was begging to be taken into custody. Not that I really felt to sorry for him, he was a murderer after all." Greg allowed himself to chuckle at the memory. "Still, it made the arrest easy. The man kept confessing over and over. We couldn't get him to stop. He was scared we wouldn't believe him and would let 'that mad bastard' at him again. Of course he meant Sherlock."

"You seem amused by my brother's antics," Mycroft observed. "What if he had got himself hurt?" It was his biggest concern, one he couldn't seem to set aside.

"Like I said, I don't worry about that as much now, not with John along. He normally keeps your brother safe. It's good having him around. When Sherlock does something especially daft, John gets him out of it every time."

Greg's tone had been full of confidence, the kind that came from experience. It had actually reassured Mycroft somewhat.


	7. Chapter 7

In the late night relative quiet of the hospital, Mycroft was left alone with his own thoughts as companions, not always the best of situations for the government official. Like Sherlock, there were times that his mood plummeted. He just had different coping mechanisms than his brother and he was better able to hide his condition from most. This was one of those times.

It seemed strange to Mycroft that he should be feeling so depressed. He had lost a few memories, what did it matter? He had his whole life to make new ones. He shouldn't succumb to some sentimental mourning about the situation. Besides, there were good things to ponder, his brother for one. He wouldn't have to worry about him so much if what he had been told was true, so why feel sad? He should be feeling joyful. The government official rolled onto his side and punched his pillow. What should it matter that he couldn't remember a relationship with a man he didn't remember? He didn't do relationships. The loss of one he couldn't recall shouldn't matter. Mycroft felt tears coming to his eyes and he wiped them away furiously. He never cried! It didn't help, the tears kept coming.

The door to his room cracked open, causing a thin line of light to fall across the floor and the foot of the bed. Mycroft stayed as still and quiet as he could, hoping the intruder would go away. Instead, someone slipped quietly into the room and sat down in the chair by his bed. In the dim light, he could tell that it was Gregory. The government official swallowed, hoping he would sound normal when he spoke. "Visiting hours are over." He sounded shaky and on edge to his own ears.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to wake you." Greg ran his fingers through his silver hair. "I guess Sherlock's bad habits have rubbed off on me." He smiled in the darkness. "I just... I missed you, but I thought you might be tired of having a stranger hanging about. I figured this way I could..." Mycroft sniffled and the DI broke off, sensing something amiss. "Mycroft, what's wrong?" Leaning forward, he instinctively groped for the government official's hand.

Mycroft pulled it away and found the bed controls. He adjusted the bed so he sat upright, hoping he would feel more in control that way. By the time he spoke, he felt he had his mask of normality well in place. "Nothing is wrong, except the doctor's won't consent to release me yet. Being here is tiresome." He paused. "You should know I have enjoyed your visits. They have relieved the tedium. I look forward to them." Now where had that come from?

Greg shook his head. "That's crap, well the first part anyway, I hope you mean the rest, but you forget, Mycroft, I know you better than anyone. Even sitting here in the half dark, I can tell you're not okay. It's one of your moods, isn't it?"

The government official gaped at Greg. The DI's insights were still a surprise and more than a bit disconcerting... and unwelcome. "I don't have 'moods'," he said, almost sulkily.

"Right, and Sherlock isn't a childish brat." Greg got up and turned on the lights, then he came back to resume his seat. "And I suppose you haven't been crying either."

"Get out!" Mycroft barked loud enough to be heard from the corridor.

"Mycroft... Myc, please," Greg tried.

"Get out of my room and don't come back." How dare this man presume to know anything about his dark moods. He would never have shared that with anyone, not for any reason.

The DI was confused and hurt by the sudden change. Things had been going so well. What had he done wrong?

A guard had stepped into Mycroft's room, the same guard that had helped Greg sneak in earlier. "Sir, I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave."

"I'm going," the DI replied. He left the room with only a single backward glance. He had no idea what he would do now.


	8. Chapter 8

No sooner had Greg left than Mycroft wanted to call him back, but his stubborn pride kept him from doing it. He lay back against the raised head of the bed and closed his eyes, reminding himself that he didn't need anyone. He never had. Other people needed him. It didn't do anything at all to help the ache that he felt at the DI's absence. Why did he feel such an attachment to the man? Did it mean he remembered their relationship on some unconscious level? Was he just familiar somehow? Or was it a deep compatibility between them that didn't rely on memories at all? Mycroft sighed, not able to deduce the answers to his questions. Eventually, he managed to fall into a light sleep, but it was plagued by dreams of him looking for something he had misplaced.

The next morning, Mycroft woke to find his brother sitting in a chair by his bed, looking at him with an almost sad expression. He pushed himself up, cleared his throat and greeted him, "Good morning, baby brother."

"Good morning, Mycroft," Sherlock replied gently. "How are you feeling?" He already had a good notion of how his brother felt both physically and emotionally, but he wanted to hear what Mycroft would say.

"I'm fine," the government official said, but he had looked away when he said it. He didn't want to discuss how he felt with his brother. He still felt too raw and he had never allowed Sherlock to see him when he was like this.

"That's complete crap," the detective pronounced. "Physically, yes, you have improved. But I spoke with Lestrade last night. He was quite upset. He told me some of what happened. Do you have anything you want to share?"

Mycroft gave his brother one of his trademark bland expressions. "I don't know what you are talking about. And even if I did, since when do you care about how I feel, about sentiment and emotions?"

The detective let out a sad sigh. "Since I met John. Since you and I settled our differences and became friends. Since I came to care about Lestrade and you as a couple. You're all a part of my life and I want nothing more than for you to be happy together. Now tell me, brother-mine, why did you send Lestrade away?" Sherlock hoped he had struck the right balance between sentiment and simple statement of fact. That was the only thing that might get through to this version of his brother.

After an incredibly long silence, Mycroft spoke slowly. "I have dark moods, much like yours, but I've always hidden them from you. A man in my position is supposed to be above such things, after all."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Wrong. Powerful men are just as prone to them as anyone else, perhaps moreso. They know things that the rest of us don't." He paused, then said gently, "Besides, I know about your moods. You've shared them with me in the last few years. Talking about them has helped us both."

"I see." The government official took some time to let that sink in. "Anyway, Gregory noticed that I... that..." He simply couldn't say it no matter how much he and his brother had apparently come to confide in one another.

Sherlock deduced what his brother hadn't said, though. He sat forward and placed his hand by Mycroft's. "He noticed that you had been crying," he said with the most tenderness Mycroft could ever remember his brother directing at him. "Oh, Mycroft. If there is anyone in this world that it's safe for you to cry in front of, it's Greg. You can trust him with your heart. He'll never tell anyone. He didn't even tell me when we talked last night. All he said was that you threw him out."

Mycroft took a deep breath. "I regretted sending him a way the moment he was gone."

Sherlock picked up Mycroft's mobile and pulled up Lestrade's number, then handed it to his brother. "Call him. Tell him that."


	9. Chapter 9

Greg's phone rang and he pulled it from his pocket. Glancing at the screen, he was surprised to see the call was from Mycroft's phone. "Hello, Mycroft?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes, Gregory, it's me." The government official paused, trying to get up the nerve to say what needed to be said. He wasn't used to being in the wrong, much less admitting it and apologising, but for this one unique man, he thought he could do it. "I... Gregory, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have sent you away." There was silence on the phone. It seemed to last forever. Mycroft felt a lump form in his throat. "If you don't want to speak with me, I understand. I apologise for calling you," he said and it hurt far more than he thought it should.

"Mycroft, wait," the DI said in a rush. "I wasn't expecting to hear from you, let along for you to apologise. It caught me by surprise. I didn't think you were... Well, it took you quite some time to learn to do that graciously before. So, thank you." He ran a hand through his silver hair. "Does this mean I should come see you?" He sincerely hoped so. He had missed Mycroft last night, moreso than normal. Greg hadn't been able to sleep, he had been so distraught. "I would really like to."

"Please." The relief in the government official's voice was obvious. "I regretted my words the moment you had left. I know it's absurd given how much I don't remember, but I am unaccountably fond of you Gregory."

A broad smile affixed itself to the DI's face. "That's good to know. I'm rather fond of you myself. I guess I'm just a charmer. I'll be there as soon as I can get dressed and drive over." Greg felt giddy. It was the first time Mycroft had indicated a true liking for him since he had woke up with amnesia. Perhaps all wasn't lost.

"Thank you, Gregory. I look forward to seeing you."

When they had rung off, the DI rushed through his morning ablutions, then dressed in jeans and the shirt that Mycroft had always said complimented his eyes.

* * *

Sherlock smiled at the pleased look on his brother's face after Mycroft's phone conversation with Lestrade. "Good job, brother-mine. There's hope for you." He smiled at the expression on his brother's face, then laughed. "Seriously, Myc, I'm proud of you for doing that. Greg's good for you." His words were spoken with brotherly affection.

The government official pulled a face. He still wasn't used to this side of Sherlock. "I've been exposed to too much sentiment this morning. If you would please spare me any further demonstr-"

Mycroft was interrupted by a knock on the door and the entrance of his physician followed by a nurse. "Good Morning, Mister Holmes. How are you feeling today?" the doctor asked, a clipboard tucked under one arm.

At the risk of sounding like his brother, Mycroft heaved a sigh and said, "Bored. When will I be allowed to go home?" Yesterday wouldn't have been soon enough for him. This place was driving him stir crazy.

The physician smiled. "That's why I'm here, actually. You're doing well, physically. There's really no medical need to keep you here any longer. I just need to give you one last exam, then I can start getting your discharge papers in order."

Mycroft brightened visibly at those words. "By all means. Baby brother, please leave us and call Gregory. See if you can reach him before he leaves the house and ask him to bring me some real clothes. I'll not leave here in pyjamas."

"Of course," Sherlock said, rising. "Will you require anything else, brother-mine?"

"Yes. A decent meal when I get home."

The younger Holmes chuckled. "I'll see what can be arranged." With that, he stepped out into the corridor to place the call to Lestrade.


	10. Chapter 10

Greg knocked on Mycroft's hospital room door, feeling an odd mixture of relief at being asked to come back and nervousness at the prospect of facing the old pre-boyfriend version of the government official again. Still, when Mycroft called for him to enter, the DI felt himself grinning. "Hello, Mycroft," he said as he opened the door and stepped through. "I brought you a suit." He hefted the travel bag in one hand before crossing to place it on the empty bed, Mycroft standing beside it.

"Thank you, Gregory." The government official dropped his hand from his jawline where he had been feeling the smooth planes of his own freshly shaved face. "It feels good to be allowed out of that miserable bed. I was even permitted a shower. Once I get dressed, it is entirely possible that I'll feel human again." Unzipping the bag, Mycroft smiled. It seemed Greg knew his tastes in suits quite well.

"I thought about bringing one of your more casual outfits, just to see your reaction, but decided against it. I almost regret it. You do look nice in those jeans of yours and when you put them with that pale green shirt..." Greg shook his head regretfully, clearly enjoying the mental image he had conjured up for himself.

Mycroft looked almost scandalised. "I don't wear jeans!"

"Well, you didn't when we first met either. It took me months to convince you to try them and months after that to convince you how delectable you look in them." Greg shot the government official a smile. "Actually, I rather enjoyed the convincing. I hope I get to do it again in the not too distant future."

"Gregory... I..." Mycroft blushed, not knowing how to respond. "You haven't talked like this before."

"And look where it got me," the DI said, spreading his hands wide. "I've been tiptoeing around you, scared I'd say the wrong thing, so of course I did and you asked me to leave. If I'm going to do or say the wrong thing, well, I'd rather be damned for being myself than for hiding who I really am from you. Still, as far as you recall, I've never seen you naked, so I'll wait outside whilst you get dressed." Greg gave Mycroft a wink and, before the government official had time to think, stepped out of the room.

For a moment, Mycroft stood there, stunned. So much had just happened in a handful of minutes. The most shocking of which was had been Gregory describing him as 'delectable'. Was it really possible that the DI saw him that way? He had always thought of himself as too tall, overweight and he hated his too large nose. Surely Gregory had been teasing, but no. Mycroft was sure his words had been sincere. How... extraordinary.

Of course, the DI was himself, quite handsome. Mycroft would have had to be blind not to have noticed. He removed his pyjamas as he thought about Greg's lovely silver hair and dark brown eyes. A person could get lost in those eyes. The government official gave himself a shake and pulled on his trousers. He had to forcibly get himself back on task five times before he managed to get dressed. Each time, he found his mind had drifted to thoughts of Gregory. He had never been so fascinated by anyone in his life. Mycroft laughed ruefully. Actually, he had, he just couldn't remember it, and it had been this same Gregory Lestrade.

Mycroft opened the hospital room door. "I've already signed the papers so I can leave any time. Get me out of here, Gregory. Take me home." Take me home and let me get to know you, he added mentally as he smiled at the DI. He had to trust that he had known what he was doing when he entered into a relationship with Greg. At the very least, he was determined to find out.


	11. Chapter 11

The ride home was quiet, neither Greg not Mycroft spoke much. Still, it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. The government official had closed his eyes and let the motion of the car relax him as best it could. Having Greg by his side seemed to go a long way towards relaxing him as well, a fact Mycroft didn't examine too closely.

Upon arrival at their house, Mycroft opened his eyes and breathed out a sigh of relief at seeing the building's familiar white facade. He wondered if it would look as familiar on the inside. The driver opened the car door and the government official stepped out, Greg right behind him.

"I know you're glad to be home," the DI said as he unlocked the front door. "Maybe as glad as I am to have you home." He held the door open for Mycroft and gestured for him to enter.

The foyer hadn't changed at all, but when Mycroft stepped into the living room, change was everywhere. Greg's influence was clear to be seen in the much more casual look and feel of the room. There was an overflowing collection of CDs and DVDs that had to belong to Greg as well as books and other oddments. On the mantel was a framed photo of the two of them together. Mycroft seemed to be drawn to it.

"We had that made on Holiday," Greg said from just behind the government official who had picked up the photograph. "You didn't want to. You said you looked ridiculous, but I talked you into it."

"You were serious about me wearing jeans," Mycroft said, looking at himself with his arm around Greg's shoulder, smiling. He looked so relaxed in the photo, far more relaxed than he could ever remember being, not to mention happy. He set the photo back on the mantel just long enough to take off his coat, which the DI took from him, then he picked the photo back up. "Tell me more about this," Mycroft requested as he sat on the sofa.

Greg had put their coats away and returned to sit by the government official. "You were so tired from dealing with the latest recent governmental crisis that I couldn't stand it. I insisted we take a holiday." The DI laughed at the look on Mycroft's face. "You got that exact expression and said you didn't take holidays. I enlisted the help of Anthea to kidnap you and take you on one anyway."

"She didn't." Mycroft looked scandalised.

"Your credentials mysteriously quit working. She said it would take two weeks to resolve the issue." Greg grinned broadly. "You admitted defeat graciously and actually had a good time."

"It must have been the first time I'd taken away from work in years," the government official mused.

"That's what you said at the time," Greg agreed. "We've been on several holidays since and neither the country nor your career has suffered as a result. It's been good for you. Even Sherlock says so." The memories made Greg want to kiss Mycroft. The urge was almost overpowering and the DI forced himself to look away from him.

Mycroft, of course, noticed. "Is something wrong, Gregory?"

"Nothing. It's nothing," Greg lied. He needed to find an excuse to leave the room for a moment and collect himself. Tea. He'd make tea. "I'll just-"

Placing a hand on the DI's shoulder, Mycroft said, "Stop." He looked at Greg for a long moment, observing every little detail and making his deductions. "You wanted to kiss me. Just now."

Greg's rubbed the back of his neck, feeling awkward. "Yeah," he admitted with a shrug. "I can't help it. I love you and... you're extremely kissable."

The government official set the photograph aside and turned to face Greg a bit more full on. "Gregory... I find the idea not entirely objectionable. In fact," he bit his lip, "I find it quite amenable. That is-" He broke off at the stunned look on the DI's face.

"You're sure it's not too soon? You don't really know me yet."

"I'm certain, Gregory, and I intend to rectify that sitiation."

After a moment, Greg nodded and they moved closer together, their lips first touching, then parting in their second first kiss.


	12. Chapter 12

Greg pulled back from their kiss with a smile on his face. He couldn't help but chuckle at the pleased expression Mycroft wore. "God, I've missed that," the DI said in a voice roughened by desire.

The government official cleared his throat. That had been... nice. Very nice. It had felt familiar somehow. He found he'd rather like to do it again, but Greg had backed inconveniently far away. "It was quite enjoyable," he said, feeling his face burning with the first hint of a blush at his own inadequate words.

"I don't suppose your memories came rushing back like in some movie," the DI said with a crooked smile.

Mycroft laughed softly at the idea. "No, Gregory, unfortunately not." Just as he was about to suggest they might try again, there came a knock at the door. "Buggar." He surprised himself by saying such a thing. He never swore. Never. But the interruption was quite unwelcome. "I had best get that. I'm certain it's my brother and John. Sherlock seems overly concerned with my wellbeing. It's taking some getting used to."

"I'll let him in," the DI offered. "And you have only yourself to blame, you know. You taught Sherlock that caring means looking out for one another. He's been doing it ever since the end of your brotherly cold war."

Greg opened the door and wasn't a bit surprised to find Mycroft was correct. Sherlock stood just outside the door along with John. "Come in," he greeted them cheerfully. "Mycroft's in the living room." He took both men's coats and went to hang them up.

Sherlock stopped in the doorway to the living room, causing John to bump into him.

"Oi!" the doctor complained. "Get out of the way, you great giraffe." John shoved his way around his boyfriend and greeted Mycroft, "It's great to see you back home."

"Thank you, John," Mycroft replied, though he kept his eyes on his brother. "What is it, Sherlock? You're gawping at me," Mycroft said, still feeling the need to guard himself around his brother. He was still not used to the way their relationship had apparently changed over the last few years.

The detective gave himself a shake and smiled at his brother. It was a genuinely pleased smile. "I'm just glad to see that you and Greg are getting along." He came into the room and sat across from Mycroft without adding anything snide.

Mycroft was surprised again by the change in his brother. It was clear that Sherlock had deduced he and Greg had been kissing just minutes before and his brother wasn't taking the piss. It was a pleasant change. The government official couldn't help but smile. "Yes we are getting along quite well. Gregory was telling me about when this photo was taken." He picked it up from where he had let it fall to the sofa and set it on the coffee table. "I wish I could remember it. It sounds like we had quite the good time."

John had gone in search of Greg, finding him in the kitchen making them all tea. "I'll help," the doctor offered. Being familiar with the kitchen, he got out some biscuits and placed them on the tray. "What's it like, being home with this version of Mycroft?"

The DI gave a snort. "I've barely had a chance to find out. Couldn't you get Sherlock to give us one day to settle in before coming over?" He winced at the pleading whine in his own voice.

"Right. You know I don't have that much control over him." John sounded amused. He took the mugs (Greg's influence) of tea and added them to the tray, then he gave his friend a sly look. "Did we interrupt something?"

Rolling his eyes, Greg picked up the tray. "If you must know, yes. We were having a very nice... talk." He looked John directly in the eyes, then grinned. "Yeah, a talk."

The doctor chuckled. "I'll see if I can't encourage Sherlock to leave soon then so you can get back to your, ahem, discussion." He was delighted for both Greg and Mycroft. They desperately needed to regain what they had had, both the physical and emotional connection. It looked like they might be on their way to both. Good for them.


	13. Chapter 13

Despite John's best efforts, he and Sherlock remained at Mycroft's house well into the night. When they finally took their leave, the government official stretched and yawned, realising just how tired he was. "Gregory, I'm going to turn in for the night," Mycroft said, standing, then he paused, unsure of the current sleeping arrangements.

The DI sensed his unease. "Your room is the same as it was when I moved in. I assume it's the one you were using six years ago." He shrugged. "I moved my things to the guest room next door. It seemed like the thing to do."

The feelings that Gregory's words stirred in Mycroft were mixed. He had enjoyed their kissing on the sofa immensely and it had definitely been arousing, but he didn't think it wise to complicate things. Not yet. "That was very foresighted of you, Gregory." He took a step in the direction of his bedroom, then paused, not sure why.

Greg stood up. "I think it's time I go to bed as well. I've actually got to go to work in the morning. It's time I get back to my normal schedule." He gave Mycroft a small smile, then led the way to their rooms.

There was an awkward moment in the hallway when the government official longed to crowd Greg and initiate something that he had already decided would be unwise at this juncture. The DI broke it by leaning in and placing a chaste kiss on Mycroft's cheek. "Just call if you need anything," Greg said with a soft smile, then he pulled away and disappeared into his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

Mycroft, after standing in the hallway a moment, entered his own room and closed the door. The room was much as he remembered it. The furniture was the same as was much of the decor, but here and there he could see small indications of Greg. There were more photos of them together on the walls, an alarm clock sat on the night stand across from Mycroft's own and, when he stepped into the large closet, he saw that half of it was empty. Obviously the DI's belongings had filled the space until recently. The government official felt a pang of guilt at having displaced him so completely. Greg could have left his things in place. It wouldn't have been a hardship to share the storage space.

After Mycroft had changed into his pyjamas, he turned out the lights and climbed into bed. For the first time in his memory, the bed seemed too large and cold with him in it alone. He wondered at himself, missing a man that he was just starting to get to know, but he couldn't deny that he felt Greg's absence keenly. He wondered if the DI was thinking of him in the room next door. The government official gave a snort and chided himself. The whole thing wreaked of rampant sentiment. He punched his pillow, lay down and pushed the whole situation from his waking mind.

Mycroft and Greg sat atop a cliff looking out over the ocean. The DI's head rested on Mycroft's shoulder and their hands were clasped. The sun reflected golden on the ocean and birds cried out as they flew overhead. It was the most peaceful the government official could ever remember feeling in his entire life.

"I'm not ready to go back to London so soon," Greg said with a sigh. "This has been the perfect holiday."

"I agree completely, Gregory. Thank you for making me come." Mycroft gave the DI a kiss on the side of his head. "I suppose I shall have to arrange a bonus for Anthea when we return." He had been cross with her at first, but now he felt grateful.

"You'd better," Greg agreed. "I'd never have managed this without her."

"She is very good at her job," Mycroft agreed. "We'll do this again. Soon," he promised. "I didn't realise how much we both needed it."

Greg sat up, turned to Mycroft and kissed him, long and sweet, taking his time.

In his sleep, a smile found its way onto Mycroft's face.


	14. Chapter 14

When Mycroft woke, it was in the comfort of his own bed in his own room. It was a pleasant change to wake in familiar surroundings. He stretched luxuriously, then he remembered his dream... his dream and Gregory. The dream lingered as a pleasant memory and made the government official eager to see Greg. He climbed out of bed and threw on his dressing gown, then went in search of the DI.

To Mycroft's disappointment, Greg had already left for the day. He made himself a cup of coffee and took it back with him to his bedroom. He wasn't sure what he was going to do with himself that day, but he decided he might as well select what he was going to wear after he showered.

Mycroft entered his huge closet, again noting the bare side that had once housed Greg's clothes. It's emptiness was still disturbing somehow. The government official turned his back on the emptiness and started to select a suit, but his eyes drifted over to the few jeans that he apparently owned. He remembered the look on the DI's face when Greg had described him wearing them and a sudden idea came to him. Mycroft selected a pair of jeans and what he hoped was the pale green shirt the DI had described. He smiled to himself at the idea of his new plan - he would pop in and surprise Greg at lunch.

Mycroft placed his selected clothing neatly on the bed, then looked at the time. It was early yet, so he didn't need to rush. It occurred to him that he didn't know when the DI normally took lunch. He didn't want to call him and ruin the surprise. He could call Anthea, of course, but another thought occurred to him - Sherlock would know and they were on speaking terms now. Mycroft grabbed his phone, sat on the edge of the bed and dialled his brother.

Sherlock picked up on the second ring. "Good morning, Mycroft," the detective said in a sing song voice.

"My, don't you sound chipper, baby brother?"

"I should. John and I had an excellent sha-"

There was the sound of a tussle, then the doctor came on the line. "Hello, Mycroft. Lovely day. I'm afraid Sherlock can't speak right now. Is there something I can help you with?"

Despite himself, the older Holmes was amused. "I'm glad you're keeping my brother entertained, but yes, there's a matter in which you may be able to assist. What time does Gregory take lunch?"

John smiled to himself. "Half 12, unless something comes up. Sherlock!"

"He likes Thai," the detective said, having snatched his phone back from John.

"I'll keep that in mind," Mycroft replied. "Thank you."

"There's a little place three blocks down from the yard, across the street. It's convenient and he likes it. Take him there," Sherlock ordered in a friendly manner. He happened to know Greg liked it a lot and had enjoyed more than one meal there with Mycroft.

At that, the older Holmes smiled. "Ah, thank you again. I shall take your suggestion. Now go enjoy the rest of your afterglow, baby brother. And do tell John thank you as well." After ringing off, Mycroft finished his coffee, then set about getting ready for the day.

His morning ablutions complete, Mycroft got dressed, then looked at himself in the mirror. He presented quite the different image than he had expected. He didn't look awkward and dumpy, but rather fit and self assured. At least he wouldn't be embarrassed to be seen and if Greg liked it...

All that remained was to arrange a car and driver for the appropriate time. He did that, then settled in to wait, deciding to read one of the books Greg had obviously left laying around in the living room. It seemed like forever until half 12.


	15. Chapter 15

Mycroft stepped off the lift and looked out across the bullpen. Across the way, he saw what had to be Greg's office and smiled to himself. The silver haired man was sat at his desk, his back in Mycroft's direction.

Swiftly, the government official started across the large room, ignoring the fact that silence fell as he passed through and eyes followed him. What had happened to him was common knowledge amongst the officers and they were completely surprised to see him at the Yard.

It was Sally Donovan who spoke up, saying, "It's good to see you looking so well, Mr. Holmes. The Detective Inspector will be delighted to see you."

Mycroft paused just long enough to acknowledge her, but didn't take his eyes off Greg. "Thank you..."

"Oh, right." She held out her hand. "Sergeant Sally Donovan."

Taking her hand absently, Mycroft shook it. "Thank you, Sergeant Donovan. Now if you'll excuse me." The government official didn't wait for her reply, he simply walked away and closed the distance to Greg's office swiftly. He couldn't have explained his need to see the DI in that moment to anyone, not logically. It simply was.

When Mycroft knocked on the DI's open door, Greg spun around in his chair. He was on his phone, but when he saw the government official, his mouth broke out into a broad grin. That smile... God, that smile. Mycroft thought it was absolutely beautiful. That smile had to be what had made him notice Greg the first time, that and the DI's skill at handling Sherlock.

Whilst Mycroft had been staring, Greg had ended the call and come around to stand in front of the government official. "I certainly didn't expect to see you here today."

"You didn't say goodbye before you left for work," Mycroft said simply. As he said it, he felt his face flush in slight embarrassment. Greg grinned at him knowingly. Mycroft cleared his throat and carried on, "I thought we could enjoy lunch together, if your schedule permits?"

"It's quiet at the moment, so, yeah. I'd love to." The DI grabbed his jacket and shrugged it on. "I love what you're wearing, by the way. Is that for me?"

The government official found himself blushing again. "You know it is, Gregory."

"Yeah, I really do." The DI gestured for Mycroft to proceed him through the door. As they passed Donovan's desk, he called out, "You're in charge, Sally. I'm taking a long lunch."

"Yes, sir," she acknowledged with a smile. It was good to see her boss looking happy again. She hoped that meant the two men were working things out between them despite Mr. Holmes' difficulties.

The two men got onto the lift and the doors closed on them, leaving them blessedly alone.

"I'm really glad you came by," Greg ventured. "I wanted to say something to you before I left this morning, but I thought you needed the sleep more."

"Nonsense, Gregory. I have nothing at home to do but rest. Well, that and try to catch up with the last few years' events," Mycroft said with a crooked smile. "A task I am sure I can better accomplish having seen you off for the day."

The DI gave Mycroft a strange, considering look. "Something's changed about you. You're acting differently towards me. Warmer. Not that you've been treating me coldly. Just..." Greg broke off, unsure how to explain it.

The lift doors opened and three people stepped on, cutting their discussion short.

Mycroft took the opportunity to examine Greg's words and his own actions. The DI was correct. What had changed? He thought back over the day and remembered waking up to that dream. That dream. Maybe it had been something more, a memory, perhaps. Maybe it had awoke some of his feelings for Greg. It was an intriguing thought. He'd have to ask about the dream and see if it was really something more.


	16. Chapter 16

At the restaurant, Greg held out the chair for Mycroft as he took his seat. "It's been too long since we came here last," the DI said, sitting opposite him.

Mycroft looked around the restaurant, then back to Greg. "I wish I could remember." There were many things he wished he could remember as well as some older things he wished he could forget.

The waiter came over and took their drink orders, then they returned to their conversation.

"I had an interesting dream last night," the government official told Greg. He explained about the shared moment on the cliff overlooking the ocean and the feeling of perfect bliss that he couldn't ever remember feeling before. As he spoke, he watched a smile spread over the DI's face. "So it..."

"Was more than a dream, yeah," Greg finished for him. "That was from our first holiday together. I can't believe you actually remembered something!" The DI's voice was full of enthusiasm. He wasn't under the impression that a flood gate of memories had been opened, but he felt like there was hope. After all, if Mycroft had remembered one thing, albeit through a dream, perhaps he would remember other things as well. He reached out and took the government official's hand in his own, giving it a squeeze.

"It was just one dream. I might never remember anything else," Mycroft protested in the face of Greg's enthusiasm.

The waiter came up to take their orders. Mycroft started to make his apologies, he hadn't even looked at the menu, when Greg ordered for the both of them. At his obvious surprise, the DI explained, "You always get the same thing here. I'm sorry if I overstepped myself."

The government official waved away Greg's apology. "No, no. It's fine." He felt himself blushing. Why did he keep doing that around the man and how was he supposed to maintain his reputation as the Ice Man if his emotions were going to insist on making themselves known on his face like this?

Greg still looked worried. He must have something of what Mycroft had been thinking in his expression.

"I'm sorry, Gregory. My thoughts drifted for a bit," the government official said apologetically.

"I could tell," the DI said gently. "I've seen that look before, you know. When we first started out. You were so worried about how our relationship would affect your career and how I might get hurt by those seeking to use me against you. It turned out not to be a problem, though, didn't it?"

Mycroft frowned. "What do you mean?"

Greg looked mildly surprised. "I would have thought Anthea would have included that in the notes she gave you."

"Nooo," Mycroft said, drawing it out. "She would have considered such a thing as pertaining to work. She hasn't provided me with that information yet." He sounded mildly annoyed. He was more than ready to take on the task of reviewing the last six years worth of information.

"Well, one of your colleagues decided to test you by putting pressure on me." Greg grinned at the memory. "To make a long story short, you handed his privates to him on a proverbial plate. I think you terrified everyone who might have thought you had a new weakness to exploit."

Mycroft chuckled. "One would hope the privates were proverbial as well."

That made Greg burst out laughing. "Oh, yes, but I think some people are afraid you'd hand them the real thing if they cross you. Your reputation as the Ice Man is completely intact and yes, I do know that horrible nickname."

"It's well deserved, you know," the government official said seriously.

Greg captured Mycroft's hand again. "I know and I understand completely. It's just, the Mycroft I know... You don't let me see that side of you anymore, not unless our paths cross at work and then it's never aimed at me."

Further conversation was interrupted as their food arrived.


	17. Chapter 17

As soon as the waiter had left, Mycroft picked up his cutlery. Looking down at his plate, then back up at Greg, he said, "That's good to know. I'd hate to think I treat you like an adversary. You're anything but." He felt his face heating as he blushed at the admission.

Greg grinned at the government official. "I like the sound of that." He picked up his own cutlery and took a bite of his food with great enthusiasm.

Their conversation turned to other things. They talked about Greg's current work load and Mycroft's desire to start catching up with what he'd need to know for work. It was one of the government official's deep seated desires to get caught up sooner rather than later, but he didn't want to neglect whatever this was between him and Greg. He told him as much. "Gregory, no matter what I do, I want to devote time to you, to us. I can't pretend to feel for you now what I did before, but I truly believe the potential is there. I couldn't stop thinking about you all morning. I've never experienced that with anyone before."

Greg reached out and covered Mycroft's hand with his own. "Hey, that's fine. I don't expect everything to be like it was, not instantly. I haven't stopped thinking about you either and, well, if my thoughts are a bit... inappropriate at this stage, you can't blame me. I know what I'm missing." He grinned rather lopsidedly. "But I can wait for that. What we're doing now is good. As long as I get to be with you, it's all good."

Mycroft thought about not waiting for that and smiled. "I am a grown man, Detective Inspector. I find that the prospect of getting to know you in more ways than one is rather thrilling." His smile broadened into a grin. "In fact, though I found it quite thoughtful, I was rather disappointed that you had moved your things to another room. Perhaps you'd care to reconsider that notion?"

The DI's eyes had gone large with surprise. "I, ah, yes! Absolutely. You have no idea how much I've missed sharing a bed with you and not just for... that. I sleep better with you by my side. I know it sounds stupid, but it's a fact."

Clearing his throat, the government official retrieved his hand from Greg's grasp and stabbed a bite of his meal. "I can't but think I would too." He ate the bite and stared at his plate for a moment, a smile on his face. He decided he'd move all of Greg's things back where they belonged, back in their room, as soon as he got home.

Greg's phone rang and he wanted to ignore it, but Mycroft urged him to answer it. "Your Sergeant wouldn't call unless it was an emergency. I can tell she wants us to spend time together."

"You're right," the DI said with resignation, then he answered the call.

Mycroft watched him, finding himself proud of how quickly Greg shifted into professional gear. He didn't pay attention to what his... boyfriend(?) was saying. Instead he deduced that a high profile murder had taken place simply from the DI's shifting expression. Mycroft waved the waiter over and pressed a load of money into his hands. "We have to leave. An emergency has arisen. Do keep the change."

Greg rang off and gave Mycroft an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, Mycroft, but..."

The government official pushed away from the table and stood. "We're ready to go. You know, of all people, I understand about work coming first. I'll walk you back... unless, of course, Sergeant Donovan is picking you up."

"She is, actually," the DI said with regret.

"Then I'll walk you out." Mycroft's fingers itched to reach out and take the DI's hand. In fact, he wanted to kiss him right there in the middle of the restaurant. God, he felt like a giddy teenager again. Instead, he walked him to the door and opened it for him. He spotted Sergeant Donovan already waiting by the curb and sighed. He had hoped for a few more minutes along with Greg.

The DI wavered for a moment, then he bravely kissed Mycroft on the cheek. "I'll call you if I'm going to be late." He turned and jogged to the waiting car and got in.

As the car pulled away, Mycroft raised his hand to touch where Greg had kissed him and smilled.


	18. Chapter 18

Greg got home late. He was exhausted, but when he saw Mycroft, he got his second wind. "God, I'm glad to be home. That case is going to be a nightmare."

The government official greeted him with a kiss on Greg's cheek. "I'm just glad you made it home tonight. Have you eaten, Gregory?" He didn't notice how the DI touched his hand to where he had kissed him.

Greg shook his head. "No, but I did manage some coffee and a bag of crisps."

"That'll never do. I put together a lasagne earlier. I'll heat you up some," Mycroft offered.

Following the government official into the kitchen, Greg sat at the table. "That's interesting. Your lasagne is my favourite."

Mycroft gave Greg a intrigued look. "I wonder if I remembered that, at least subconsciously." He pulled the lasagne out of the fridge. "It seems at least plausible. I'm starting to wonder what else is lurking just beyond my conscious awareness." He heated a plate full of lasagne for Greg. "I must admit, I would much rather have my memories back completely though."

"Give it time, love," Greg told him. In horror, he realised what he had said.. "Geez. Mycroft, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have..."

"It's fine." Mycroft set the plate of food in front of the DI. "I... I can't return the sentiment, at least not yet, but... given time... You're a fascinating person, Gregory. I'm enjoying getting to know you. I daresay, I even missed you this afternoon and evening."

Greg grinned at that, then decided to change the subject for Mycroft's sake - the poor man was blushing beautifully. "What did you do all day?" he asked, curious.

"I spent most of the time catching up on current events. It's ridiculous for me to be expected to wait a full month to start catching up with the last six and a half years." He handed Greg a beer. "I also moved your things back into our bedroom," he said nervously. "I hope that was okay?"

The DI lowered the beer from his lips. "You did that? Are you sure? I mean..."

"I'm quite certain. I don't do things on a whim, Gregory. I'm not my brother.. The room looked barren without your belongings in place." Mycroft shrugged awkwardly. "Of course, I hope that means you'll be sleeping in our room. I find the prospect of sleeping alone again to be odious."

"Yeah, I'd like that." Remembering what Mycroft had said earlier that day, Greg asked boldly, "Is it only sleep you're interested in? If not, I have some lovely ideas for how we could spend our evening."

The government official blushed even brighter. "I would be amenable to... other activities besides sleep," he agreed.

"Good." Greg grinned and took a bite of his dinner. "As soon as I've finished this excellent lasagne, I'll get a shower and join you in our room if you'd like."

"I'm looking forward to it." Mycroft felt a rush of excitement that, as far as he could remember, he hadn't felt in years. In his government position, he had always been very circumspect with his relationships, keeping them strictly platonic. The prospect of the evening ahead made him almost giddy.


	19. Chapter 19

Greg scrubbed himself clean, then he let the hot water run over him for a few minutes. He was thinking about Mycroft and what lay ahead. Intimacy with Mycroft. God it had been too long. He would have worried that the man was pushing himself, but he knew the government official always meant what he said and if he asked for something, then he wanted it.

Getting out of the shower, the DI towelled himself off. He ran his fingers through his hair, remembering how Mycroft had always said he liked it mussed. He doubted that had changed, Mycroft was still Mycroft after all.

What Greg found in their bedroom was Mycroft waiting for him. He crossed over to the bed and took a seat next to the government official, resting his hand on Mycroft's arm.

Their eyes locked and Greg was drawn down to press his lips to Mycroft's. They sipped soft kisses from one another's mouths along with sweet sounds of pleasure. Despite how long it had been since they had last had done this, they were both content with simply kissing for now. Their sweet kissing went on for nearly 30 minutes.

Finally, Mycroft grasped Greg by his silver hair and escalated the kiss to one of passion. He wrapped his leg around the DI's thigh and pulled him close against him. "Gregory," he said breathless.

Greg moaned, pressing his forehead against Mycroft's. He felt momentarily overwhelmed and, to his horror, he felt tears welling up in his eyes. This was something he had almost given up on ever having again. He had told himself to be patient, but it had been so difficult. Now he didn't have to anymore.

Mycroft raised his hand and wiped away the tears from Greg's cheek with his thumb. "Gregory?"

The DI tucked his face against Mycroft's neck and he held on to him as tightly as he could. All the insecurities and concerns he had felt over the last few weeks seemed to have bubbled up and overflowed all at once.

Hugging him back, Mycroft kissed his temple. "Gregory, this has been difficult for you. I didn't realise. I'm so sorry." He kept kissing the side of Greg's head, trying to kiss away the pain.

Finally, Greg looked up and met the government official's eyes. "I've missed you. I've missed this."

Mycroft cupped his face and kissed him all over frantically. "I'm so sorry. I love you, Gregory. I love you." His heart swelled to overflowing for the DI. He was frantic and wanted to be as close to Greg as he could get.

Mycroft rolled them over so he was on top of the DI. Greg let out a gasp of pure pleasure and reached out blindly towards Mycroft. It felt so good, so sweet and so very, very intoxicating to finally have him like this.

"You know I love you," Greg panted out. "I've loved you... loved you for so long." He closed his eyes as Mycroft gave him a long, delicious kiss. "I've hated this, not being with you."

Mycroft pressed their lips together again in another bruising kiss, his free hand going cupping the back of the DI's skull. "You're mine, Gregory, and I'm yours." He couldn't believe how much he loved Greg. It was beyond reason. It was as if it was fuelled by years of knowledge of the other man.

Much later that evening, both of them sated, Greg held Mycroft close and cherished the moment as long as possible. He kissed the side of Mycroft's head, then he fell asleep, content.


	20. Chapter 20

Mycroft woke feeling the best he had felt since before the morning he had woke up in hospital with amnesia. He was warm, comfortable and ridiculously happy. He and Greg were tangled pleasantly together, their limbs overlapping where they clung to one another. It felt a bit like heaven might if heaven had actually existed.

Greg's eyes cracked open and he gave his lover a sleepy, but endearing smile. "Good morning, Mycroft." He wasn't in any hurry to move. He felt completely relaxed and it had been too long since he had woke up with the other man in his arms. "Can we stay like this all day?" The DI kissed the tip of Mycroft's nose playfully.

"Alas, my mind is willing, but my bladder is not." The government official extracted himself regretfully from the tangle of limbs and headed towards the bathroom. "Besides, you should be getting ready for work. It's late."

"Nope. It's my day off." Greg stretched luxuriously and thought about the day ahead. He knew it was inappropriate, but he wanted to tell the world what had transpired last night. Well, he at least wanted to tell John and Sherlock.

When Mycroft reappeared, it was the DI's turn to have a go at the loo. On the way to the bathroom, his stomach made a loud rumbling sound that could probably have been heard on Baker Street.

Mycroft laughed and put on his dressing gown. "Get a shower, then I'll have a go. After that, we can cook a full English breakfast. I find I'm rather hungry myself."

Greg paused long enough to place a peck on the government official's cheek, then he looked into his eyes. "You're a wonder, Mycroft Holmes."

The government official blushed furiously, then shoved his... boyfriend towards the bathroom. Greg went willingly enough, laughing the entire way.

Mycroft made his way to the kitchen and put on coffee. As he waited for it to brew, he suddenly found he was angry. He had lost six years of his life. He could live with that. What made him furious, though, was the memories of his time with Greg that had been taken from him: memories about times like last night, holiday getaways, Christmas, and surely numerous times of teasing Sherlock together. It was entirely unfair. He wanted those memories back!

An idea occurred to him. He couldn't recapture those memories, but he still had plenty of leave before he was expected to embark on his re-education program. If Greg could get time off as well...

Mycroft must have become lost in thought, because a clean, freshly dressed DI joined him in the kitchen. "A penny for your thoughts."

"Can you take some time off work, Gregory? Significant time. A couple of weeks, perhaps. I have an idea." Mycroft looked at Greg with a sort of hopeful desperation.

"I have plenty of leave built up, so, yeah, I could probably manage two weeks off, but why?"

"I'd like to revisit some of the places we've been on holiday. You know I've been looking at our photos." Mycroft looked away. "It just doesn't seem right not having memories to go with them." He glanced at Greg, trying to gauge his reaction. "Never mind. The whole thing must seem horribly sentimental to you."

The DI closed the distance between them and hugged Mycroft. "Yep. It does and I love the idea. I'll call my super and arrange it. It won't be a problem." Greg kissed Mycroft, then pulled away. "I'll never get tired of how you let me see your sentimental side when you hide it from almost everyone else. Now go get that shower. You'll feel better for it. Promise."

Mycroft couldn't hide his goofy smile as he headed towards the bathroom. He felt light again, his anger vanquished by Greg's agreement to go on holiday with him. He couldn't wait to make new memories with his boyfriend, memories to help fill the gap. It was just what they needed.


	21. Chapter 21

Mycroft and Greg had spent the last ten days travelling to various holiday sights and making new memories. Now they had arrived at their last stop, a small cottage near the ocean. It was picturesque and familiar to Mycroft from the photos they had back at home. It also seemed familiar from the occasional dream he had had.

Greg watched his boyfriend as Mycroft stood by the car looking out over the ocean. The government official seemed lost in thought. "What is it, Mycroft?"

"I don't know. It just seems... familiar somehow. Would you mind if we take a walk before we unload the car?" Mycroft took a few steps towards a path that ran along the ridge before looking to see if Greg was following.

"I'd love to. That rock we sat on isn't very far from here, the one you mentioned from your dream. It's got a lovely view." Greg caught him up, took his hand and they strolled down the path together.

When they reached the rock, they sat next to one another on it. Mycroft toyed with Greg's hand, paying special attention to his fingers. That's when he noticed it, something he should have observed days, no, weeks ago. The ring finger on the DI's left hand had a pale band around it as if he had been accustomed to wearing a ring there, but had stopped.

The memory came to the government official in a flash. He had sat on this rock with Greg and asked him to marry him, sliding a ring on his finger when he had said yes.

Greg had agreed to marry him. Him. Mycroft Holmes. The Ice Man.

Mycroft looked up into Greg's beautiful brown eyes and gasped. "I remember, Gregory. I asked you to marry me and you said yes."

Greg smiled, thrilled, but slightly sad. "Yes, and it made me the happiest man on the planet, but I know things have changed. I'll not hold you to it."

A floodgate of memories couldn't be said to have been opened, but Mycroft found himself awash in pleasant recollections of time spent with Greg. Awkward early dates, laughing, getting to know one another, making slow, sweet love and having mad passionate sex. There were more gaps in his memory than not, but he had more sweet memories of his time with Greg than he could ever have hoped to have.

"No, Gregory. Please. I remember so much more. Not everything, but so much. I remember enough to know you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. If you still want me and don't think I'm hopeless, I would be very much honoured if you would marry me."

Greg's eyes glittered with unshed tears and he had to clear his throat before he could answer. "Of course I want to marry you, Mycroft. I didn't dream..." He threw himself at his once again fiancé and hugged him fiercely. "God yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. I even bought you a ring, but I didn't get the chance to give it to you before your accident."

Greg pulled back and wiped at his eyes. "God, look at me. I'm acting like a school girl. But to be fair, this is just as much about you actually remembering things as it is this." He brought Mycroft's left hand to his mouth and kissed his ring finger. "After so long, I didn't think there was much hope."

"Neither did I, if I'm honest, Gregory. I'm simply thankful for what memories I do have. If I don't remember a thing about work, I don't care. That can be relearned. But my memories of you are precious."

The two men kissed, then they sat together looking out over the ocean for almost an hour as Mycroft told Greg the things he could now remember. It filled them both with a warm joy that stayed with them the rest of the day.


	22. Chapter 22

Back in London, Mycroft and Greg had almost headed straight to Baker Street at the DI's insistence, but Mycroft had demanded they make one stop on the way. That was why they had just pulled up outside their home.

The couple entered the house without bothering to unload. They were there for just one thing: to get Greg's ring. The DI jogged to their room ahead of Mycroft and returned, meeting his husband in the living room. He handed the small box to Mycroft. "I want you to put it back on for me."

"I would be honoured." Mycroft opened the box and took out the ring. He looked up from it into Greg's brown eyes, smiling. "Although I asked this a few days ago, it seems appropriate to ask again on this occasion. Gregory, will you marry me?"

"Yes, you soppy bastard, I will." The DI beamed as Mycroft slid the ring onto his finger, then he pulled his fiancé in for a kiss. After they broke apart, Greg reached into his pocket and drew out a ring box. He fiddled with it for a moment. "I had picked this out for you, but I didn't get a chance to give it to you before... you know." He opened the box and took out the ring.

Unexpectedly touched, Mycroft held out his hand. Some part of his brain observed that it shook slightly. Greg took it in his own hand and slid the simple gold band onto his fiancé's finger, then he brought it to his lips and kissed the ring.

"Gregory, I don't know what to say."

"Don't say anything." Greg embraced Mycroft again and kissed him softly, trying to put all the love he felt for the other man into the kiss.

They kissed for long minutes, their hands and lips wandering. It was all they needed, the connection of skin on skin and lips on lips. Later, there would be time for more passionate activities, but this was enough for the moment.

Finally, they broke apart. Greg's eyes were crinkled at the corners with pleasure and Mycroft's face shown with one of his genuine smiles.

"Shall we go allow Sherlock to deduce our change in status?" the government official asked. "He'll enjoy that so much more than if we simply come out and tell him."

Greg chuckled. "Agreed."

They left the house arm in arm and took the car to Baker Street.

* * *

John greeted Mycroft and Greg and let them into the flat. "Sherlock's busy with an experiment. He hasn't moved from the microscope in hours," he offered by way of apology. "How was your holiday?"

"It was magnificent!" Greg drew the doctor aside. In a low voice he said, "Now, don't react. We wouldn't want to give anything away to His Nibs, but..." Both he and Mycroft held up their hands to show him their rings. "The engagement is back on, mate."

John started to congratulate them, then glanced towards the kitchen. In a quiet whisper, he told them, "That's wonderful. Just wait here." He headed into the kitchen. "Babe. Leave off the experiment and come and say hi to Greg and your brother. If you don't, I'll throw out the toes."

"John, you wouldn't!"

The doctor crossed his arms. "Try me."

Reluctantly Sherlock abandoned his experiment and adjourned to the living room where their guests had seated themselves.

John busied himself making tea, wondering how long it would take his boyfriend to notice the rings. As he turned on the filled kettle, he heard his boyfriend's tell tale 'Oh' from the living room. He reached the living room just in time to hear Sherlock pronounce, "You're engaged again. It's about time. I was beginning to lose faith in your abilities, Lestrade. I had expected the announcement two weeks ago."

Greg picked up the Union Jack pillow and tossed it at his future brother-in-law's head, but Sherlock deftly caught it in mid air, grinning. "You could at least say congratulations."

Taking his fiancés hand, Mycroft told him, "He just did." He was starting to understand his brother. "Thank you, Sherlock.

The detective burst into a grin. "I can't wait for you to tell the parental units. They've been so worried. They simply love Greg."

Mycroft groaned. He knew they would have to be told next.


	23. Chapter 23

Having left Baker Street with Sherlock's promise not to phone their parents with news of Mycroft and Greg's engagement, the newly engaged couple headed home.

"Will you ring your parents or will we be visiting them to tell them in person?" Greg asked. He didn't mind either way. He liked Mycroft's parents and would enjoy seeing them.

"I would prefer to phone, but I suppose an actual visit is in order." Mycroft sighed. "Shall we plan on seeing them this weekend, barring governmental crises or serial killers?"

"Yeah." Greg grinned at Mycroft. "That would be good." He looked out the window, away from his fiancé, his mood souring as he thought about his own family. They certainly wouldn't be glad to hear about the coming wedding.

"Gregory?"

"It's nothing."

Mycroft pursed his lips. "That is most definitely not the case. We don't have to invite your parents or your sister. We don't even have to tell them."

"How did..." Greg laughed bitterly, still looking out the window. "Of course. You deduced they were homophobic twats ages ago."

"I probably deduced it twice," Mycroft said, trying to lighten the mood. "But I get the impression there's someone, I know it's not your sister..."

"Kelly, my cousin. "She's always been great. So were her parents when they were alive. They told my mum and dad what idiots they were being. Of course, it didn't make a difference to them, but it mattered to me." Greg turned to face Mycroft. "I want to ring her. She's married now. You should meet her husband, Ted, and their little girl, Anne. They're the best."

Now Greg was smiling again, just like Mycroft like to see. "Good. They shall be invited to the wedding."

"Yeah." Greg looked much more relaxed now. He stretched out in his seat and grinned at Mycroft. "You really are beautiful." The blush that crept up Mycroft's neck made his freckles stand out. "I've been remiss."

"And how is that, Gregory?" Mycroft's blush was still just as bright and he kept his eyes steadfast on the road.

Greg reached out and placed a finger on Mycroft's neck, tracing a line from one of Mycroft's freckles to the next, then another and another and... "I'm meant to be mapping these lovely beauties and the constellations they make. This one's a heart. I think it's meant for me."

Mycroft shuddered and glanced briefly at Greg. "Four freckles can't make a heart."

"The heart continues down beneath your collar." Greg's fingers delved beneath said collar, brushing further down Mycroft's neck. "Can't you drive any faster, Myc? I'm ready to be back at home alone with you."

"We've just spent days alone together. Aren't you ready for things to get back to normal? Work beckons, after all." Mycroft's tone belied his words. His mind was fully on Greg and what they could do once they got back home. They hadn't properly christened their bed as an engaged couple. Well, not this time around anyway. If they had before he had lost his memory, it didn't count now.

"We're getting married. Spending time with you at our home is getting back to normal." Greg cupped the back of Mycroft's head. "And it's not my fault that you're gorgeous and simply being near you is enough to get me aroused." He grinned when Mycroft shot him another glance, this one hungry. "Besides, I'll be back at work all too soon and you'll be getting ready to return to work. I want to take advantage of our last evening without responsibilities."

Mycroft reached up and moved Greg's hand from his neck to his thigh. "I'm highly amenable to spending the night in intimate pursuits."

Greg moved his hand along Mycroft's leg. "I want to be with you again tonight, Mycroft Holmes."

"Gregory... Stop. Please. I can't drive with you doing this." Greg's attentions had driven Mycroft to distraction and it was all he could do to concentrate on the road.

Throwing back his head, Greg laughed heartily. "As long as you promise me a good shag when we get home."

"Gregory, I promise you the best shag of your life."

Greg sniggered. "Mycroft Holmes said 'shag.'"

Mycroft found a break in the traffic and increased his speed, eager to get home.


	24. Chapter 24

Greg stepped into the shower first. It was the type of shower that would make the people on home remodelling shows green with envy. Four people could have easily fit in it and there were double shower stations with heads that sprayed along the length of a person's entire body.

Mycroft followed close behind Greg, sliding up behind him and into the warm sprays of water that hit them from every direction. He had the feeling this wasn't the first time they had done something like this, though he couldn't remember having done it. It was just a vague sense of déjà vu. Mycroft didn't have long to ponder the situation, though, as Greg turned and took him in his arms and kissed him passionately.

When they broke apart, they rested their foreheads together. Greg was grinning. "Fucking hell, Myc, but you're so hot." He ran his hands over Mycroft's torso, letting them come to a rest on his hips.

"No, Gregory. It is you who is... hot." Mycroft blushed and ducked his head.

Greg removed his hands and reached for Mycroft's shampoo and poured some into his palm, then he started washing Mycroft's hair. He looked into his eyes lovingly the entire time. "Rinse, love," Greg urged. From there, it quickly devolved into something else entirely.

When they were done, Mycroft let out a shaky, "Thank you, Gregory."

"It was my pleasure," Greg said with a lopsided grin. He looked down at himself. "Though I need this shower more than ever."

"Allow me." Mycroft bathed Greg much as Greg had bathed him earlier and soon they were both clean.

When they had dressed for the night and climbed into bed, they lay there cuddled together. Greg could sense Mycroft thinking even in the dark. "What is it, Mycroft?" Greg asked, rolling over in Mycroft's arms to face him.

"I was just thinking. It's time I get back to work. Or at least prepare to do so." Mycroft had been giving it quite a lot of thought. He was sure Anthea would agree to help him. It was only a few days before he was scheduled to start the education process after all. He simply didn't think he could bear to wait any longer, not with Greg back at work himself. He needed a purpose of his own to feel complete.

"Are you sure you're ready?" Greg asked. "What am I saying? Of course you are." He kissed Mycroft on the nose. "I bet you get caught up on events and intrigue in half the time they've allotted you. You'll be back on the job before you know it."

"You flatter me, Gregory. There is so much that I've forgot." He was worried that it would prove to be too much, even for him. For the first time, he let that worry show.

Greg saw the self doubt in Mycroft's eyes. "If anyone can do it, Myc, you can. You're the most brilliant person I know. All you have to do us read something once and it's yours. That eidetic memory of yours... You told me once you actually see words and images that you've been exposed to. It's amazing. And that hasn't changed, has it."

Mycroft laughed. "No, it hasn't. Which is nice, because I can remember exactly what you looked like in the shower when..."

Greg laughed, then kissed him. "Stop worrying, then. It's all going to be fine." He snuggled closer to Mycroft, sliding down so he could tuck his head under Mycroft's chin. "I believe in you, Mycroft. I always have and I always will."

Mycroft felt a lump rise in his throat that he swallowed down. "Thank you. That means more to me than you'll the know." He held Greg tight and eventually they both fell asleep.


	25. Chapter 25

Mycroft had been right. It hadn't been difficult to persuade Anthea to provide the information he'd need to re-educate himself about the political intrigue of the last six years. Part of that information came as hard files that were too sensitive to be scanned into the system. The rest came as renewed access to the MI5 and MI6 computer systems. Of course, she had insisted they work at his house rather than at his main office or the club just to keep everything under the radar.

"Sir, may I suggest you read through these files first?" Anthea handed him the first several of the tall stack of files." Her expression was even more serious than normal.

The government official raised a single eyebrow in response as he took them. A quick glance revealed the information within involved his brother. "I thought I had been brought up to speed regarding Sherlock at the hospital."

"That was the sanitised version, sir." She started to turn away, but hesitated. "Sir, just this once, I am going to call on the trust you have developed in me from the years before your memory loss. Living though the months, years that are described in those files was... difficult for you. Please, Mr. Holmes, remember that your brother, John and Greg are safe and happy now." With that, she did turn away and retreated to her own workspace just outside Mycroft's home office.

Mycroft sat gazing after his PA, in a sort of shock. She had never spoken to him in such a manner before. He didn't think it was just because he had forgot such an event either. Anthea always acted professionally and never crossed the line into the personal. For her to do so now... He eyed the filed she had handed him with some trepidation.

Halfway through the files, the government official stood and walked over to his small bar and poured himself a brandy. As he considered what he had read, he sipped at his drink. For the first time, he found himself almost grateful for his amnesia. No, that wasn't true, but he couldn't say he wasn't grateful to be able to read the files from a bit of an emotional remove. All of the events with Moriarty were highly disturbing, not to mention the fall and it's aftermath. He had just started reviewing the Mary debacle. He dreaded where that would lead. With a sigh, he finished his brandy and returned to his work.

By the time he had finished with all of the files related to his brother, it was late in the afternoon and Mycroft had a pounding headache. Still, he was determined to push forward and start reading the other files which Anthea had organised by date.

He looked up at the sound of someone entering his office, fully expecting it to be Anthea, but it was Greg.

"You look like hell," the DI said, not pulling any punches.

"Anthea called you, then left," Mycroft said, leaning back in his chair. "That was completely unnecessary." He gave the lie to his words by covering his eyes with his hand.

"Clearly." Greg went around the desk and propped one arse cheek on it. "Look. I'm home. You're clearly knackered. Let me take care of you." The DI waited patiently for his fiancé's response, knowing better than to push.

Eventually Mycroft let his hand drop. "I'm not admitting to anything; however, a relaxing evening with you wouldn't go amiss."

"Good." Greg stood up and held out his hand. When the government official took it, he gave him a hand up. Together, they walked into the living room and sat side by side on the sofa.

The DI wrapped his arm around Mycroft's shoulders. "Anthea told me what you were reading today. I can't imagine it was fun. It certainly wasn't pleasant to live through, not for any of us. I'm just glad it's all over."

The government official let out a sigh. "I feel I should apologise to everyone for my part in the whole disaster. So much of it could have, should have been avoided."

"You did your best with what you knew. Besides, you have apologised and been forgiven." Greg turned his head and kissed Mycroft's cheek. "It's in the past and we've all learnt from it."

"But what will I discover tomorrow?" Mycroft leant his head on Greg's shoulder and closed his eyes, feeling enormously weary. He was grateful for Greg's presence. Without him, the night would have stretched out endlessly before him with just his thoughts for company.


	26. Chapter 26

_Mycroft and Greg were sat at the kitchen table enjoying dinner and each other's company. The government official lifted his wine glass and took a sip. As he set it back down, a sound from behind him caught his attention. He turned around in his chair to find the source of the disturbance._

 _The scenery around Mycroft shifted. He was now sat in what appeared to be a dreary basement. Before him, a poor wretch was suspended by his wrists from opposite walls. The man's head hung, long hair obscuring his face, as a second man in Serbian uniform tortured him. It had been the sound of a pipe striking flesh that had caught Mycroft's attention._

 _The government official's stomach churned at the abuse being heaped upon the prisoner, though he had witnessed the like before with cold demeanor. For some reason, this was different. He felt the urge to intervene on the prisoner's behalf. It wasn't until he heard the man speak that he understood why: he had Sherlock's voice._

 _Mycroft lurched forward, only to find himself stood in a stark white room, his brother handcuffed to a table, the table firmly attached to the floor. They seemed to be in a visiting room in prison._

 _Sherlock spoke, his voice full of determination. "I'd rather take the mission and face almost certain death than remain here. If I stay locked up in this place, I'll be dead within the month. I swear I will."_

 _Mycroft recoiled in horror, but understood the truth in his brother's words. Sherlock would prefer death to going not-so-slowly insane in prison._

 _The scene shifted again and he found himself by Sherlock's side in a filthy drug house. The atmosphere was even worse than the Serbian basement had been. Both Holmses were young. Mycroft bent over Sherlock. He could see that his baby brother was pale and barely breathing…_

"… ycroft." Greg gave his fiancé a shake and called out his name again. "Come on. Wake up. Myc…"

Mycroft jerked awake, his eyes flying open. It took a few seconds for him to realise where he was. He sat up shakily and covered his eyes with one hand.

"Thank god," the DI said, relieved. "You were having a nightmare."

"Hm. Obviously," Mycroft snapped. After a moment, he dropped his hand. "Sorry. It was particularly disturbing. After today…"

Greg wrapped an arm around Mycroft's shoulders. "I suppose we should have expected this."

"It's not that, Gregory." A simple nightmare wasn't enough to shake Mycroft Holmes, or so he told himself. There was something more bothering him. "What if it wasn't just a nightmare? What if it was made up of memories?" He remembered finding Sherlock overdosed in the drug den after all. It matched his nightmare perfectly.

Greg could feel Mycroft's dread coming off of him in waves. "Do you want to talk about it?"

The government official didn't answer for a while. When he did, it was with a question. "What was it like, living through it all?"

"It was hell. Pure hell. And I was just involved on the edges of it. I can't imagine what it was like for you." Greg kissed him on the temple. "Those two years Sherlock was gone, I thought it was my fault that he jumped. So did John. Hell, even Anderson did. Drove the bastard mad." He shrugged. "There was a lot of self-loathing going around back then. Of course all the shit that came after… it didn't seem like it would ever stop. I hated watching it tear you apart. But, Myc, it's all in the past. We made it through and your brother is better than ever.

"He is, isn't he?" Mycroft snuggled into Greg's grasp, remembering how happy Sherlock and John were together. "Nightmare or memory, it doesn't matter." The sense of dread he had been experiencing was finally dissipating. He felt washed out and was immensely grateful for the DI's embrace.


End file.
